by DW Davis
“I will, Rhi. We may have forgotten for a while, but you’re still my best friend.”
“You haven’t called me Rhi since we were five,” Rhiannon said with a slight smile.
“Thanks for being there, Rhiannon. I would have fallen apart if you hadn’t walked in that door.” I struggled to keep my voice even.
“I let you down once, Michael. I’ll never let that happen again, that you can count on.” She gave me a quick hug, walked to her car, and drove off. I was alone with my memories.
I stood there on the porch in the deepening dark for some time. Then I turned and went into the house. Geddaway would be unoccupied tonight. It was time I faced my ghost.
Twenty-one
The next day I woke up alone in our big empty bed in our big empty house and realized that, without Maeve, it no longer felt like home. Without her, it was just a place to stay. A place that maybe I needed to get away from for a while, maybe for a long while. I knew that someday I might be able to return, but right then I just didn’t want to be there.
Having decided I didn’t want to stay at River Dream raised the question about where to go. I decided to go sailing. Sailing had always been my way to escape.
Since it was August, I figured I’d sail south for the fall. I’d spend the winter among the islands and in the spring, well, I’d decide then where to go next.
Maeve and I had been planning that trip to Bermuda, so we’d been taking navigation classes and had ordered the new boat. It was due to be delivered the next week, giving me time to get myself ready to go and time to get River Dream ready for me to be gone. The first thing I did was call my father.
He sounded skeptical. “So you’ve decided to go sailing. You’re going to spend the winter sailing the Caribbean.”
Knowing my dad, I should have expected that.
“Yes, that’s what I’m thinking,” I said. “The new boat will be ready on the sixteenth. I just need to make arrangements for someone to look after River Dream while I’m gone.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“Just how long do you think you will be gone?” my father wanted to know.
How long I would be gone was something at which I could only guess. “Six months, a year, it depends.”
“You’re going to go off sailing around the Caribbean for a year?” my dad asked. He no longer sounded skeptical, but his voice wasn't approving either.
“You sound like you think it’s a bad idea,” I said a bit defensively.
“No, not at all, I’d love to go with you,” Dad said.
In the background I heard my Mother say, “I heard that, Owen.”
Dad chuckled at my Mom's remark. “All right son, I’ll make a few calls and get things set up with the house. What about the other boats?”
I hadn't thought about that. The other boats couldn't just sit at the dock at River Dream indefinitely.
“I’ll get Jeremy to store them for me. I’m sure he won’t mind the rent money.”
“Son, he probably won’t charge you any rent. You own forty percent of the marina, remember?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” I said sheepishly. “Thanks, Dad.”
My next call was to Hans to see if he wanted to come down that weekend and help me sail Riverscape and Geddaway up to Oriental. Even over the phone I could sense the conflict he felt.
“I would if I could, Michael,” Hans explained, “but April’s family is having their annual reunion this weekend. I wouldn’t hear the end of it if we didn’t go. Her parents are hosting it this year. I am sorry.”
“I understand,” I assured him, though I was a little disappointed. I wondered whatever happened to anytime 24/7/365. Marriage happened, I guess. The disappointment must have shown in my voice.
“Michael,” Hans said, “let me talk to April, explain the situation. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Now I felt like a jerk. I should have known Hans wouldn’t let me down. It was my turn to be the stand-up guy.
“Really, Hans,” I said, “it’s all right. I’ll call Chase. He always jumps at a chance to go sailing.”
“Are you sure, Michael?” Hans asked, concern evident in his tone.
“I’m sure, buddy, but thanks,” I said. “Give April a hug for me.”
Chase couldn’t make it either. He was leaving Friday afternoon for some kind of technology instructors’ conference, and the ticket and room were already paid for. He offered to blow it off anyway, but I told him not to do that. Derrick was out of state on a trip with his family. A sad coincidence, but they had another funeral to attend. That’s why he’d had to leave so quickly the day of Maeve's service.
I was trying to think of who else might want to do some sailing when the phone rang. Thinking it was probably my dad, I picked it up.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mike,” Rhiannon said, her voice tinged with worry. “I called to see how you were holding up.”
I took a deep breath and considered my answer. “I’ve pushed out to several seconds at a time,” I told her.
“That’s good,” she said, sounding a bit relieved.
“Rhiannon, I’m glad you called. Do you still sail?”
“I haven’t for a while, why?” she replied, evidently puzzled by such a question.
“I need to sail my boats up to the marina in Oriental this weekend so Jeremy can put them in storage for me,” I explained.
She didn't say anything for a minute, and then asked slowly, “Why would you do that?”
“I’m going to go away for a while. Maeve…Maeve and I bought a new boat, a bigger boat. We were going to sail it across to Bermuda and back this fall. I’ve decided to sail it down to the Bahamas instead and spend the winter bumming around the islands. It’ll do me good to get away from here for a while.”
“That actually sounds like a great idea. I think it’ll do you a world of good. I guess I could come down and help,” Rhiannon said. I could almost hear the relieved smile on her face.
“Great,” I said. “When can you get here?”
“What time did you want to get started?”
I thought about that quickly and replied, “The earlier the better.”
“I could come down Friday after work. Would you be okay with me staying in the front bedroom?”
When she asked, I could almost hear my mother’s voice questioning if it was a good idea. I decided there was no harm in an old friend spending the night in the spare bedroom. Any romantic ties between Rhiannon and me had been severed long ago.
“That would be fine with me,” I assured her. “I’ll see you Friday night.”
After getting off the phone with Rhiannon, I went out to the garage to get the Grand Cherokee. As I opened the garage door, I noticed the empty spot where Maeve’s car should be. It hit me that her car was still parked down at the stables. For the first time since the hospital I thought of Raven, her mare. I would have to do something about Raven.
Dimly, I remembered Maeve’s friends from the horse club at the funeral. They had been very upset about what had happened and very sorry they hadn’t been able to do more for her. I mouthed what now sounded in my mind like clichéd platitudes.
Maeve had become close to them but I’d never gotten to know them that well. Now I would need their help finding a home for Raven. I hoped I hadn’t been too much of a jerk at the funeral.
Deciding that dealing with that could wait, I backed the Cherokee out of the garage and headed toward Oriental. Then I realized I needed to make arrangements for the Jeep and Maeve’s car, too. For a minute I felt overwhelmed. I pulled over, took a deep breath, told myself to take care of one thing at a time, and continued on to Oriental.
“Hey, Mike. I was really sorry to hear about Maeve. How are you holding up?” Jeremy asked when I walked into his office at the marina.
“I’m making it through one minute at a time right now, Jeremy.”
Jeremy nodded understandingly. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.
”
“Thanks, Jeremy. As a matter of fact, there is something I need to talk to you about. I’m going to need to store my boats for a while.”
Jeremy turned around and grabbed a notebook off the shelf behind his desk before he answered. “Not a problem, Mike. I assume you’re talking about dry storage.”
“Yeah. I’m going to bring them up this weekend. I plan to make a day of it.”
“Do you need anyone to crew for you?” Jeremy asked as he made a note on the schedule.
“No, I’ve got a friend coming to help out. Thanks anyway. I will need someone to shuttle me back and forth to the house,” I said, after a moment’s thought.
“I can get one of the guys to do that,” Jeremy said. “Your new boat is coming in on the sixteenth. Do you want to store that one too?”
I turned to look out the window that opened onto the boat yard as if expecting to see the new boat sitting there.
“No, that one is the reason I’m storing the others,” I explained. “I plan to sail the new boat to the Islands for the winter and spend some time down Bahama way.”
Following my gaze, Jeremy said, “That sounds like a good plan. It’ll get you away from here for a while. That’s probably the best thing for you.”
“Yeah, I hope it’ll do me some good.”
With that worked out, I headed to Scoops to get some lunch. The folks who worked there had known Maeve pretty well, and they all expressed their condolences. When I finished lunch, I knew it was time to head to the stable. I had an idea about what to do about Raven.
Twenty-two
I’d learned that on the day of Maeve’s accident, Raven had been spooked by a couple of kids on dirt bikes who weren’t even supposed to be in the woods. The kids came around a bend in the trail and practically ran into the horses. Maeve and Raven were in the lead. Raven reared up in fear and surprise. Maeve, who had turned around to say something to the rider behind her – probably about there being motorbikes on the trail - was caught off balance and thrown from the saddle. The park rangers never caught the kids. After learning the whole story, I realized I’d been wrong to put the blame on Raven.
Pulling into the parking lot at the stable, I spotted Maeve’s Porsche where she’d left it the morning of the accident. It was kind of hard to miss a red Porsche 944.
For a moment I couldn’t breathe, and tears pooled in my eyes. Memories of the Christmas Eve I gave her the car came flooding back. I nearly turned around to leave but, with great effort, got my emotions under control and pulled in next to the Porsche.
I went into the barn to find Rita, the owner. She was talking to someone, so I headed to Raven’s stall. It was empty. I went out the back to look at the paddock, and there she was, grazing. I called to her, and she looked up. A lump formed in my throat. If it had been Maeve calling her, Raven would have trotted right over. My confidence that I could handle taking care of her wavered.
“Mike, we’re all so very sorry about Maeve,” Rita said as she walked up behind me. She’d probably told me the same thing at the funeral, but I barely remembered seeing her and her daughter there, much less what they might have said.
I swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat. I finally managed to say, “Thank you, Rita.”
“Have you even begun thinking about what to do about Raven?” Rita asked. I suspected she knew that was why I was there.
Turning towards her, I said, “I was hoping you could help me with that. I want to be sure she goes to someone who will take as good a care of her as Maeve did.”
I saw tears well up in Rita's eyes.
“Mike, I’ve always been fond of Raven,” Rita revealed. “My daughter is just old enough for her own horse now. I know Raven is a good and gentle horse. If you’re all right with it, I’d like to buy Raven for her.”
Fighting to hold back my own tears, I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. “Rita, thank you, I’d like that. I think Maeve would have liked that. But let it be a gift. You don’t have to buy Raven. Knowing you’ll be caring for her is enough for me.”
Now her tears began to flow freely. “I don’t know what to say, Mike. Thank you.”
We stood there for several moments in shared grief. Finally I pulled myself together and pushed on to the other topic that needed to be addressed.
“Now, about Maeve’s car. I’ll have someone come by and pick it up this week. I’m probably going to give it to the Community College. They can sell it or auction it off for their Foundation.”
“That would be a nice gesture, Mike,” Rita said.
“Yeah, well, I don't think I could ever drive it,” I thought out loud. I could feel myself starting to tear up again. “God, I miss her so much. I look at that car and expect the door to open and Maeve to jump out and say, ‘Hi, honey, what are you doing here?’”
Rita put her hand gently on my back. “I know how you feel, Mike. It was like that for me when I lost my Ray. I kept looking up when someone walked into the barn, thinking it would be him. Sometimes when I’m really lost in what I’m doing it will still happen.”
I’d almost forgotten that Rita had lost Ray to prostate cancer the year before, leaving her to raise their daughter while trying to keep up the stable. The stubborn cuss wouldn’t go to the doctor until it was too late for them to do anything for him. After that happened, Maeve insisted I go and get checked.
“When does the pain stop, Rita?” I asked.
Rita sighed a mournful sigh. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did,” she said sadly. “I suspect it will hurt a little less as time goes by.”
“How did you make it through those first days?” I was desperate to know.
“I knew that Ray would expect me to be strong, to go on with my work, to be strong for our daughter, Jacqueline.”
Swallowing hard, determined not to let the tears start again, I told her, “I’ve got no one to be strong for.”
“You’ve got to be strong, Mike, to honor Maeve’s memory. She wouldn’t want you to up and quit,” Rita said, almost scolded.
I realized she was right. Maeve would not put up with me wallowing in self-pity. I took a deep breath. There were things I needed to do.
“Thank you, Rita. You’re right. You’ll see to Raven then, that she’ll be taken care of?”
“You know I will, Mike. Jacqueline will take good care of her,” Rita promised. Then, in an uncharacteristic gesture, she hugged me. It was an awkward hug, almost as if she weren't used to doing it, but I appreciated the sentiment behind it.
“Okay then. I’d better be going. I’ll have someone see to the car,” I told her as she pulled away.
On the way home I thought a lot about what to do about Maeve’s car. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought I might not get rid of it, at least not right away. When I got home, I called Mr. Cooper at Camp.
“Hello, Michael,” Mr. Cooper said when he answered his phone. “How are you, son?”
“I’m making it through a minute at a time, Mr. Cooper,” I replied.
“Well, Mike, you know if there’s anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. There is something I wanted to ask,” I told him. “Is there anyone over at camp who could give me a ride out to R&R Stables? I need to pick up…pick up Maeve’s car.”
“Certainly, Mike,” Mr. Cooper said. “Larry’s leaving for Oriental shortly. I’ll ask him to stop by your place on his way.”
Larry Jackson was the program director at Camp Riversail. I’d known him since he’d first come to Riversail as a kid.
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” I said. “Tell Larry thanks for me, too, please.”
“I will, Mike. Is there anything else I can do?” He asked.
“No, sir. Not right now,” I assured him. “I just need the ride.”
“All right, then,” Mr. Cooper said. “Remember though, if you need anything, you call. You hear?”
“I will sir. Thank you, again.”
>
A short time later Larry pulled into the driveway at River Dream in a nicely restored 1957 Chevy Bel Air.
“Thanks for the lift, Larry,” I said as I climbed in.
Larry smiled and said, “No problem, Mike. All of us at camp were real sorry to hear about Maeve. We’re going to miss her.”
“Thanks, Larry,” I replied. Nothing more was said as we drove to the stable. Larry turned on the radio to the oldies station - what else in a ’57 Chevy? I thanked him again when he dropped me at the stable.
“Mike,” Rita said, sounding surprised, “I didn’t think I’d see you back this soon.”
“I changed my mind about Maeve’s car. I’m going to hang on to it for a while, I think.”
I went over to the car and hesitated a moment before opening the door. Climbing in, I was surrounded by the scent of Maeve’s perfume and leather seats. Expecting it to hit me hard, in some odd way it was actually comforting.
I slid the seat back before starting the car and rolling the windows down. Backing out of the parking space, I could almost hear Maeve telling me to be careful with her car. I smiled a sad smile and pulled out onto the highway.
I took it easy at first to get the feel for the way it would handle. I hadn’t driven the Porsche much. Eventually I started to put it through its paces. Before I knew it I was at the drawbridge across the Neuse and headed into New Bern. I took Neuse Boulevard up to Glen Bernie then hooked a left, a quick right, and got onto Highway 70.
Once on the highway, I really let the car have its way. It handled like a dream. Traffic was light, and there were no patrolmen in site as I put mile after mile behind me.
Next thing I knew, I was on the outskirts of Kinston and the low gas warning was showing. I pulled into the station at Wyse Fork for a fill-up and then took the back road cross country to pick up Highway 17 north of Pollocksville.
The Porsche took those twists and turns like it was meant for that kind of road. At the junction with Highway 17 I turned left towards New Bern. When I passed the little white church in Rhems I slowed, turned left onto Tuscarora Road, and drove to Grandma Lillian’s house.
